The Monkees In High School AU
by NoYouCan'tHaveACookie
Summary: A compilation of One shots of life in high school for the Monkees. Will always be probably complete but continually updated, if that makes sense. Please send requests! I love you all! Rated T just to be safe.
**Hello all again! Sorry I wrote this before updating This Isn't The End if fans of that story are reading this. I was just hit with inspiration and decided to write this. It's basically just a story as if the boys had met while in High School. I changed their ages and eye colors again so sorry for the confusion. And this story will probably just be a bunch of one shots compiled together, so it will always be complete. People can send requests for chapters if you want. And I don't own the Monkees franchise. Enjoy, or not.**

 **The New Kids**

Life at Malibu High School was simple. Very simple. If you lived in the neighborhood, you'd wake up at 7:00 in order to get to school by 7:40 to be a little early because school started at 7:50, except on Fridays. On Friday's, school started at 7:55, but that made little difference to the MHS Sharks. And one of those sharks was a young sophomore named George Michael Dolenz, but he preferred to be called Micky. He was 15 going on 16, had extremely curly hair that he felt subconscious about so he straightened it every morning, had bright green eyes that were always excited about his day, and was best friends to a Mister Peter Thorkleson.

For obvious reasons, Peter changed his last name to Tork. Now Peter was a junior and he was 16, had sandy, blonde locks, light blue eyes that just gleamed with innocence, and was a little slower than the average teenager. Other people just deemed Peter as stupid because of his thought process, but he was actually far from it. Pete just liked to think with his heart more than his brain most of the time. He was a great musician and was a perfect shy guy to match Micky's hyperactivity. People just were too rude and quick to judge Peter and never really got to know him that well.

They both had been going to MHS for their school lives since 6th grade. Malibu High School was one of those schools that held both middle school and high school. Peter was just, obviously, going there for a year longer. But as soon as the two had met in band class when Micky was a little 11 year old and Peter was 12, they had clicked almost instantaneously.

 _Micky looked around his new school quite nervously as he watched all the tall people walk right past him without a second thought. He had just started Middle School at MHS and was confused as to why his middle school was the same as his future high school. The light brown-haired boy stood by what was his new locker as he struggled to find his combination in the pile of papers in his skinny arms. Once he'd found what he was looking for, he smiled brightly and began putting in his combination into the black and white lock on the dark blue locker._

 _His locker open with a satisfying_ _ **click**_ _and slid open easily. He took his dark orange backpack off his shoulder and began taking things out and rearranging them in his new storage unit. Once everything was to his specifications, he smiled at his locker. He closed it shut and heard the lock click back into place. He had just turned around to proceed to his first class when he heard a shout, "Hey, Thorkleson!" Micky looked up and saw a blonde boy, a little older than himself but was about the same height. The blonde looked scared and annoyed as three tall boys surrounded him._

 _"W-What?" Peter looked at the cliché bullies around him and wondered when he entered a bad teen movie. "Oh nothing. We were just looking to see if you had any money so we could buy some snacks." They were all smiling smugly at the small blonde and Peter was looking around for some adult to find him, "I don't have any money, sorry." This statement only seemed to anger the leader of the group more, "What do ya mean? You always had extra cash on you to buy lunch last year? I don't think your mommy would want you starve, dummy."_

 _Micky could only stand and stare at what was going on in front of him. On one hand, he knew he should've stopped these bullies, but on the other hand, he didn't want to become the new target of these harassers. This was his first year of middle school and didn't want to ruin it by getting a punch in the face. "That may be true, but that's my only money. And I need it for food." Peter was getting nervous and spotted his band teacher across the hall. "Mr. Breiter!" The group of bullies turned in the direction the 7_ _th_ _grader had shouted and immediately scattered when they saw the now angry band teacher walking towards him._

 _"Were those boys bothering you again, Peter?" The brunette band instructor looked worried as he watched the miscreants all run off in different directions like cockroaches. The young boy only nodded in response. "Well listen," Peter looked up at his favorite teacher, "I will talk to the office and get them to call their parents about this and I promise you I will talk to them to get them to stop. You just need to tell me whenever they harass you, can you do that for me?"_

 _Peter smiled brightly, "Can do, Mr. Breiter." The dark blue clad middle school band instructor smiled, patted Peter on the shoulder, and walked off in the direction of the office. Micky glanced at his schedule and saw "Band Class with Breiter, Doug" in his 7_ _th_ _class square. He smiled when he saw that he was going to have a nice teacher for band this year. When he looked back up he saw that the blonde had disappeared as well. When the first bell rang over the speakers, he knew that he had to get to class as well, or he was going to be late on his first day of middle school._

 _Later that day, the green-eyed preteen walked up to the band room door. Micky felt honored that he was accepted into the 7_ _th_ _grade band instead of the 6_ _th_ _due to his amazing percussion skills. He opened the grey door and walked down the short stairs that lead into the large room. The entire back wall was lined with bass drums, snare drums, and a plethora of handheld percussion instruments. He smiled when he saw the large drum set sitting at the end of the line of drums. That was what he dreamed to become famous for. He could already play them fairly well, but nothing award worthy._

 _Micky hadn't even realized he had walked over to it until he felt his fingers gliding across the tom-toms. He was so entranced by the kit that he didn't notice the presence behind him. "H-Hello." Micky almost jumped out of his skin and turned around. He saw the blonde boy that was being picked on earlier with a trombone in his hands. "Oh, hi!" Micky smiled brightly when he saw him. He was glad that he could formally introduce himself, "My name's Micky Dolenz! What's yours?" He stuck his hand out and smiled even brighter when the shy boy had gently gripped it with his own bright smile, "I'm Peter Tork. I'm guessing you play the drums?"_

 _Micky blushed that he was caught admiring the beautiful drum kit but nodded, "Yeah, I've been into the percussion since last year. But I just got my first drum set for my birthday in March. I'm going on limb here and guessing you play the trombone?" Peter smiled at his sarcasm, "Yeah, how'd you guess?" Micky laughed, "Just a hunch." The two boys smiled and continued to talk to each other until the final bell rang, alerting them to find their seats. Micky was confused as to where he was supposed to sit when he didn't see any chairs by the back wall. But when he saw other people just standing behind the instruments, he realized that the percussionists didn't sit._

 _He just looked around and saw an empty spot behind a snare drum and decided to stand there until someone told him otherwise. Once class started, he was glad that Mr. Breiter told him that's where he was supposed to be. He smiled and glanced over to Peter, who was first chair in the small but mighty Trombone section. He was happier that he had met the timid boy and couldn't wait to bond with him more._

Peter smiled when he remembered the day that he had met Micky Dolenz. There was just something about the hyper brunette that made him content and happy to be around. He smiled again when he remembered the day he met his shortest friend, David Thomas Jones.

David, or Davy, was a short Englishman who was probably one of the cutest people in the school. He was in 6th grade when Micky met him while Dolenz was a 7th grader. The young Brit was very defensive about his height, and whenever someone said anything bad about him, he would reply with, "It's because I'm short, isn't it?" Davy had short, neat, dark brown hair, deep chocolate eyes, and million dollar smile. Micky and Peter had met Davy in choir class, believe it or not.

 _It was the middle of 8_ _th_ _grade for Peter and he was sitting in his choir class with his best friend, Micky Dolenz. People liked to think that the young Tork couldn't sing just because his voice wasn't made for it. This was why he had joined choir class in the first place. Peter really wanted to learn how to sing properly, so he could stop being made fun of for it. Micky, on the other hand, had a spectacular voice. Peter could tell right away that Micky could make a career out of his singing. His tone was perfect, he always hit the right note, never seemed to mess up, and made almost all the girls in the class fall for him._

 _That was, until, a certain foreign exchange student moved to America and began going to class with them. "Alright, boys and girls, I have a very special someone to introduce to you all. He have a new student from England that will start school with us today. Please give a warm welcome to," The teacher glanced at her computer to recheck the new student's name, "David Jones." All eyes went to the door to see this new guy come in, but they all fell a foot shorter when the boy who walked in was incredibly shorter than what they had expected._

 _He was probably around 4 feet but didn't seem affected by all the taller people in the room. He just smiled, showing his blindingly white teeth and spoke in a very British accent, "'Ello everyone! Me name's David but please, call me Davy." The rest of the girls, who had not already fallen for Micky, sighed in happiness at the Brit. The teacher smiled down upon the new student, "What part of England are you from, Davy?" Said Englishman smiled and replied, "Manchester. But the Birds there are of no competition to what I lay my eyes on now."_

 _Peter was confused as to why and how this Davy saw birds in a classroom but tried not to make anything of it. The teacher asked Davy what his range was in order to find a good spot for him. "I can be anywhere between bass and a tenor. I'll sit anywhere as long as I can be next to a beautiful girl." Mrs. Cox, the teacher, was slightly worried at Davy's fascination with girls at such a young age but figured kids these days are just trying to grow up faster and faster._

 _"Alright, how about I sit you in-between Micky and Clarice over there?" She pointed directly at Peter's best friend. "Works for me." He smiled at Clarice, another English student, and walked over to them. "Ello Davy. I'm Clarice. But you can call me Clara." The 7_ _th_ _grade girl had an obvious blush painted over her cheeks. "And Ello to you too, Clara." He smiled once again at the girl and continued talking to her, completely ignoring Micky's attempts at trying to introduce himself. "Uh, hello? I'm-" Micky was interrupted by the very boy he was attempting to talk to, "You have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen." Micky's happy expression haltered for a moment before it flashed back. "Um, hello?" He tapped on the short boy's shoulder._

 _This got Davy's attention. The small Brit turned around to face Micky, "Listen, Mate, can't you see I'm tryin' to get acquainted with this pretty Bird?" Micky looked apologetic, "Sorry, Man, I just wanted to talk to you since we're gonna be Choir Buddies." Davy's face softened, "I'm sorry for snapping at you. It's just different being here in America. England is my home, and now I'm halfway across the world." Peter was listening in on this conversation and was enjoying hearing this real side of David._

 _"That's completely understandable. Personally, I can't relate all that much, 'Cause I've lived in California my whole life. But Peter here," without looking, Micky reached behind him and grabbed Peter's shoulders and brought him forward, out of his seat, "is from Connecticut. He moved from one side of the country to the other. So he knows what it's like." Peter blushed at the bright smile that appeared on Davy's face. "You're from the colonies? I've always wanted to see them. What was it like?"_

 _While Peter, Davy, and Micky all conversed, Clarice was feeling slightly jealous and left out. "Uh, Davy?" She lightly tapped on her new crush's shoulder as well. Davy just held up his pointer finger, "Just a second, dear." She huffed and turned back to face the front of the classroom. That was Davy Jones became friends with Micky Dolenz and Peter Tork._

Thinking of which, Davy had just walked into the band room with Mike Nesmith by his side. Davy was having similar thoughts all morning, just as Micky and Peter. He was reminiscing on how each of them had met in this school. When he watched as Michael had walked off to join his own section, he thought about how they had met Mike.

Robert Michael Nesmith, or Mike, was a tall and skinny boy. He was 6'1", had smooth, black, slightly wavy hair with long bangs that threatened to cover his left eye, had mysterious dark blue eyes, and a thick Texan drawl. He had just moved to Malibu, California when he was a freshman in High school. Back then, he was still taller than the average teen but not nearly as tall. He was about 5'8". Though being a new student, he was of course fairly shy and awkward; Davy remembered this very clearly.

 _Davy was sitting alone in the band room, waiting for Jazz Band practice to start. He knew he was early, but didn't know why there wasn't anyone else there, not even the teacher. He had just stood up from his spot in, what would be the trumpet section, when he heard the door open. He looked to the top of the stairs to hopefully see someone familiar, but instead saw a scrawny teenager looking much spaced out._

 _Said teenager had white earbuds blocking out his world as he walked into the large band room. He was mouthing the lyrics to some song that was playing, but stopped when he spotted Davy. He reached down to the pocket on his blue jeans and took his phone out. He paused his music and took out his earbuds. "Oh, uh, sorry. I guess I wasn't expecting anyone to be in here right now. H-Have you seen anyone else here?"_

 _Davy was taken aback by this teen. He was obviously older than him, Davy being in the middle of the 6_ _th_ _grade now. This boy had a stuttering Texan accent and he was obviously nervous about something. He wore a dark green wool cap on his head that barely kept his hair out of his eyes, a denim jacket that looked like it was tailored in the 80s, a green plaid button-up shirt, and jeans made out of the same denim as his jacket that were painfully obviously too big for him. His brown leather belt was punched through a few times to just barely keep his pants up._

 _When Davy hadn't answered him, the skinny teen looked concerned for the small Brit. "Um, Mister?" Davy just continued staring. "Are you in the middle school Jazz Band?" When he received nothing but silence as his answer again, he just rolled his eyes and walked around Davy. He looked at Mr. Breiter's door and saw a note taped to it. Mike took it off and read it aloud, "'Dear Jazz Bandies, Practice has been moved to the High School Band Room for today. We are combining with the High Schoolers for our next concert. Sincerely, Mr. Breiter."'_

 _When Mike looked back at Davy, he wondered if the short boy was deaf. He decided to just ignore him to save the trouble of talking to a potentially deaf/mute person. Davy had different plans though, "You're in Jazz Band too?" Mike stopped in his tracks right in front of the door at the question._ He speaks! _"Um, yeah. Is that why you were in here?" Davy nodded as Mike came back down the stairs and towered over him, "How old are you?"_

" _Fourteen. Why?" Davy looked at the high schooler in shock. "You're only fourteen?! But you're so tall!" Mike smiled at the young boy and nodded, "Yeah, I had a growth spurt at a young age." Davy replied, "Yeah, I can tell. But why are you in here if you're in the high school?" Mike smiled shyly again, "Well, I guess I was sent on a mission to make sure all middle schoolers in the band knew where they were going. I'm guessing you didn't know about this?" Mike gestured to the note and Davy shook his head._

" _Well then, I guess I'm gonna escort you to the big kid's band room." Davy chuckled at his new acquaintance's joke and picked up his trumpet case. He followed the tall teen through the now empty hallways, for school was over. "Wow, school looks so empty without tall people walking around everywhere." Mike scoffed at this, "Yeah, and I'm one of those tall people."_

" _Oh, I didn't mean to offend you!" Davy shouted when he thought that the Texan was upset with him. "It's alright, Tiny. That's just one reason why I like that Jazz practice is after and before school before everybody gets here." Davy looked at him, "Why'd you call me 'Tiny'? I have a name; it's Davy Jones!" Mike just smiled smugly behind him, "Do I really need to answer that?" Davy just grumbled at his response about being short. "And my name's Michael Nesmith. But you can call me Mike."_

" _Alright Mike. By the way, why haven't I seen you around before? Why weren't you in Jazz in the beginning of the year?" Davy asked with sudden confusion as they approached the bigger band room. "Well, Davy, that's because I'm a new student. This is my first year in Malibu; I'm from Texas, in case you couldn't tell from the accent." Davy was going to respond but was cut off by a teacher in a navy blue polo, "Nesmith! I see you have a new recruit." Mike smiled and nodded, "Yep. He's a little feisty; he's gonna be perfect in marching band. I only wish I could be here to watch him get better at it."_

 _Davy looked confused at his new friend until he realized what he was talking about. Michael was going to be a senior when Davy was a freshman. That meant that Mike was going to graduate first and Davy wasn't going to see him for very long. The brunette's thoughts were interrupted by the teacher, "Hello there Mr. Jones. I'm the marching band instructor and high school band teacher, Mr. Meyers."_

" _Ello there. 'Owd you know me name?" Davy's accent was slightly more profound due to his nervousness. He wasn't a fan of meeting people if they weren't pretty girls. "I know all the middle schooler's names if they're of interest. For instance, being in Jazz Band or in the 8_ _th_ _grade or both." Davy nodded in understanding. His attention was soon brought towards his other friend, Micky Dolenz._

" _Micky?" Said brunette turned his head and spotted Davy immediately, "Davy! What're you doing here?" The 4' boy smiled as one of his best friends came over to him and Mike. Mr. Meyers had left before Micky was seen because he was called by a trombone player that had gotten a trumpet mouthpiece stuck in the bell of his instrument. "I play trumpet in the middle school Jazz. What are you doing here?"_

" _I play the drum set in the same band. Peter's here too; he plays the bass." Micky gestured to said blonde who sat in a seat, absent mindedly plucking and tuning his deep brown bass. Peter came over when he heard his name being called. "How come I didn't know about any of this?" Micky shrugged, "You never asked." Davy was about to respond but was interrupted again, this time by the drummer, "So who's your tall friend?" Davy's head snapped up towards Mike behind him and felt embarrassed that he had completely forgot about him._

" _Oh! This is Michael Nesmith. He's a high schooler!" Mike blushed from the sudden praise he received from these obvious junior highers. "You're in high school?! That's so cool!" The brunette named Micky said with admiration present in his voice. "I've still got half a year left; what's it like? I know we go to the same school but is it any different?" The blue eyed blonde called Peter asked excitedly. The shy Texan just smiled and replied, "Well, it's certainly different from Dallas, Texas, that's for sure. I just moved here not too long ago, so I couldn't tell you if it's different the middle school here."_

" _Texas? That means I'm the only one of my friends that's lived here my whole life." Micky said this without really thinking. Was Mike his friend now? He didn't want to offend the freshman. "Oh, sorry. I guess we aren't really friends." The wool hat-clad teen just smiled warmly at the shorter boys, "Seeing as I just met ya'll, I guess I can't really call ya'll my best friends. But I like you, so I expect we can make to best friends."_

 _Micky gasped, "You mean that?" Peter, Davy, and Micky all looked expectantly toward Mike, "Of course I do. Somebody's gotta watch over you, right?" Davy couldn't hold it in anymore; he smiled brightly and wrapped his arms around the freshman's slender torso. Micky soon joined him, followed by Peter. Mike was 8 inches taller than Micky, who was the tallest of the three, so he felt as though he was the father figure of the four friends. He soon took on that role of group as well._

 _Whenever one of them got a date with a girl, he needed to know who it was and when he could meet her to give his approval. Whenever one of them was invited to a party, he had to come with or chaperone the party to make sure they were safe. His actions were not at all subtle, so his friends had suited to nicknaming Mike "Papa Nez" whenever he got all fatherly. Michael actually appreciated this; he liked that his "sons" weren't bothered by his overprotectiveness. And he knew in that moment of their first group hug, that this was the start of a beautiful friendship_


End file.
